Calm
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Sam must take care of an injured Charlie and look after an injured, raging, Dean. Tag to 10x11. Hurt/Charlie, Hurt/Angry/Upset/Dean, Caring/Patient/Hurt/Sam.


Note: Someone on Tumblr wanted a story about what happened after Sam, Dean, and Charlie returned to the bunker, something that explained the phone-call Sam made to Cas saying that Dean had "calmed down." So here it is. Hope someone likes it, please comment if you do!

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I hated hospitals.

I've always hated hospitals.

They are full of sickness, death, and memories.

Terrible, horrible, memories.

I shook my head in a physical effort to rid myself of all the dark recollections bombarding my mind.

"Sam? You okay?"

I looked down at Charlie who was staring up at me from where she was seated on the hospital bed. I had to make a conscious effort not to cringe at the bruises and swelling that marred her face. The nurse had cleaned it up some, bandaging any of the more open cuts, but mostly just cleaning and icing.

"Yeah. I'm good. How about you? How you feeling?" I questioned.

"Much better now." She replied with a lazy smile.

I smirked, because it was evident that the pain meds had taken effect, which was good, because a few moments later a doctor came in to set her broken arm. She flinched a little, squeezing my hand tighter with her functioning limb, but didn't seem to be in too much pain.,

"It's alright." I offered in support.

She nodded, breathing evenly as the doc started to cast her arm.

A short while later the limb was encased in a disturbingly bright shade of pink. The doctor slipped a sling over her head and fitted it so that it held her arm snugly in place.

As we waited for the nurse to bring the prescription pain medicine, Charlie laid back in the bed resting as I stood by her side, but my mind was somewhere else.

Dean.

He was out in the car.

I wished he had come in, it would have made spending time in a hospital a little less painful, but my brother was not in any condition to be around people. I had asked him to come, if only so he could get his hand looked at, but Dean had curtly informed me that he was fine. Charlie had literally been in my arms, sniffling in discomfort and agony, so I hadn't had time to argue with my moron of a brother.

Dean had been tense and silent the entire drive to the hospital. He had refused to look at either more or Charlie. I knew he was beating himself up for what happened. I knew he was hating himself for losing control...again. I knew that I would have to have a serious talk with him later, but right now I had to help an injured young woman off the hospital bed and out to the car.

"You want to take the front?" I asked as we neared the Impala. I could seen Dean was till occupying the driver's seat, it looked as though he hadn't moved an inch since we got here, nearly an hour ago.

Charlie timidly shook her head. She didn't seem to care that it would probably be more uncomfortable than climbing into the backseat. She just wasn't ready to sit that close to the man who had done this damage to her. I didn't blame her, unintentionally or not, Dean had hurt her and she wasn't yet prepared to face him.

The man seated behind the wheel did not react or give any sort of outward indication that he had noticed our arrival. I kept a steadying hand on Charlie's good arm as she climbed into the back, waiting until she was settled before I pushed back my seat and dropped into it.

All the way back to the bunker I could sense the anger radiating off my big brother. His hands were wrapped impossible tight around the wheel, his posture was stiff, as he viciously clenched his jaw. I was itching to say something, anything that would make this better for him. But I couldn't really think of much and I knew that Dean would not appreciate me attempting to initiate a heart to heart at all, let alone front of the young woman in the backseat.

By the time we made it to the bunker, Charlie was half-asleep. I helped her to the room she used whenever she spent the night here. It wasn't much, just a bed and a night-table, but at least there was actually some bedding and a lamp.

"All my stuff is in my car." Charlie stated, her voice slurring a little as sat down onto the bed.

I nodded, because I knew as much. Mind you I hadn't thought of it until we showed up at the hospital. For some reason it had not occurred to me earlier. Dean and I had been so focused on getting Charlie medical attention, we had totally forgotten about her car.

"Don't worry about it. While you were getting x-rays I got the number of a local mechanic from one of the nurses. I called him, he towed your car back to his shop. Dean and I will go pick it up in the morning." I explained simply as I crouched down and helped Charlie pull off her shoes.

"Thanks." She muttered, giving me a small smile as her eyes drooped.

The adrenalin crash and drugs were putting the poor kid right to sleep.

"You want me to get you some clothes? I could probably find a shirt and some sweatpants or something." I offered, trying to think of clothing I had that wouldn't fall right off of her.

"Nah it's all good. I'm too tired to care." Charlie mumbled as she clumsily struggled to pull the blanket out from underneath her.

"Here, I got it." I said, tugging the bedspread out and waiting for her to manoeuvre herself into a comfortable position.

It was then that the noise began.

Clanging, crashing, banging, altogether it sounded something like a tornado.

Charlie flinched at the sound, wide eyes staring up at me.

I knew it was Dean and from what I could hear, it seemed he was tearing apart the kitchen.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." I told the frightened face glancing between me and the doorway.

I could tell she was scared, and not in the same way that I was. I was scared for my brother, she was scared of him, and it's not like I could blame her. The best thing I could think to do was keep the two of them as far apart as possible for the next little while. Charlie didn't need to come face to face with the anger that caused her injuries, but, even more so, the last thing Dean needed was to see her fear him. I knew that if Dean saw Charlie shy away from him, or stare at him with the expression that currently painted her face, it would tear him apart. Hurting her had been bad enough, but having her fear him, well, that was worse.

"You just get some rest. I'll take care of everything else."

Dean. I would take care of Dean.

"Be careful Sam." She instructed as she laid back in bed and pulled the blanket further over top of her.

"He didn't mean to hurt you Charlie." I declared softly, but confidently, coming to my brother's defence. He was not some animal, or a threat, and I wouldn't stand for anyone seeing him as such.

"I know, but I don't think he's always in control."

I couldn't argue that, Dean had practically admitted to as much when he confessed his inability to stop himself from almost killing Metatron.

"You need to be careful for the both of you." Charlie nearly whispered, exhaustion clearly taking hold.

I looked down quizzically at her from my position standing next to the bed.

"Because if he ever hurt you, it would break him." She finished quietly, closing her eyes seconds later and releasing a small sigh.

I mauled over the seemingly simple statement as I left the bedroom, silently closing the door behind me as I made my way to the source of all the noise.

As I neared the kitchen, the sounds of destruction escalated. I was thankful Charlie got some good pain meds, because at least she would be able to sleep through all the racket.

I took a deep breath as I arrived, letting it out slow and even as I entered the room.

The proof of my brother's rage scattered the area. Broken dishes, pots, pans, furniture, and pretty much everything else were strewn across the floor. I stepped to the side as a pot lid slammed into the wall right next to my head.

"Dean." I called out, but my brother made no reaction, I don't think he had even noticed my presents.

A glass bowl hit the wall and shattered, shards of glass reigning down on to the floor. I cringed at the sight of all the disaster. My brother was tearing his sacred kitchen apart one item at a time.

I felt my phone vibrating in the pocket of my jeans and I instinctively pulled it out.

"Cas?" I answered after seeing the I.D.

"Sam, I was just calling to see-

"Is this important?" I questioned, as I simultaneously ducked out of the path of the soaring silverware.

"No, it is not of immediate significance."

"Then I'm going to have to call you back." I said, keeping an eye on Dean as he picked up a stool and slammed it repeatedly into the table.

"Everything going alright Sam?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, uh, not really. Dean's sort of on a rampage. Nothing serious, he's just...upset." I finished, not wanting the angel to be concerned.

"Is there anyway I can assist?"

"No, just keep doing what you're doing. I've got Dean. I'll call you back when things calm down." I explained, hardly able to hear my own words of the loud sound of metal colliding with metal over and over and over again.

I waited a moment for Cas to give some sort of verbal confirmation and then ended the call, slipping my phone back into my pocket and trying not to flinch as the stool connected with the table one last violent time. I watched as my brother continued to storm about, selecting a new object to use as a weapon.

"Dean!" I hollered, more forcefully this time than last.

My brother stalled mid swing, his latest victim, a frying pan, still held in his hand.

His eyes darted up to mine, as his chest heaved with rapid breathing and his body shook with rage.

"Leave me be Sam." He ground out, swinging the frying pan into the shelving, sending packaged food falling to the ground, cans and jars clattering and shattering loudly.

"Dean! That's enough!" I commanded assertively, marching towards the aggressive man and grabbing hold of the other end of the frying pan before it started in on the next shelf.

"Let go." Dean ordered, a threatening look sent in my direction, but his gaze refused to meet mine.

"No. That's enough." I repeated, my tone calm but confident as I maintained my grip on the cooking utensil

"I'm warning you Sam." Dean seethed, his body tense as he tightened his grasp on the handle.

"Yeah, I heard you and you heard me."

We stood there, Dean glaring darkly in my direction, but still not meeting my eyes. I stood my ground, steadily waiting for my brother to make the next move.

"And we both know that I'm more stubborn than you." I added, half a smile crossing my face.

Dean's eyes met mine for a moment, their intensity softening just a little before flickering away. The hunter released his hold of the frying pan and let his arm fall down to his side as he stared at the floor, posture still stiff with anger.

I set the object onto the shelf it had just recently cleared and took a step towards Dean, ignoring the crunch of glass beneath my shoes.

My brother backed away, fists clench as his gaze wandered aimlessly around the room. There was still so much fury radiating off him.

"Sam just...I'm good now. You can go."

"Well forgive me if I don't buy that." I announced as I swept my hand across the room, displaying all the damage.

"Don't screw around Sam. I'm serious!" Dean barked.

I held back a flinch at the sheer volume of his words. I refused to fear my brother.

"Just get out of here." he ordered darkly.

"No Dean, come one, just let me look at your hands. Your knuckles are still bleeding." I pointed out, reaching over and grabbing Dean's wrist only to have him wrench it away from me as he took a few steps away.

"Don't."

It was practically a growl.

"Leave."

"No." I answered, my tone level.

"Damnit Sam! You shouldn't be here! You can't be near me right now."

"It's alright Dean." I placated.

"No it's not! I can't stop myself. Not with Metatron, not even with Charlie." My brother declared with disdain.

"It wasn't like that-

"Don't you dare make excuses for me!" He shouted.

I nodded, because that was an order I could actually follow.

"I could have killer her, man. Don't you get that?"

I nodded again, because I understood his fear.

"And you still think it's a good idea to be around me?" The aggravated man questioned in disbelief.

"I'm not afraid of you Dean." I responded honestly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you won't hurt me."

"You don't know that Sam." The reply was whispered in a haunted way that very much matched my brother's expression.

"It will be okay. We'll figure it out." I stated confidently, giving him the reassurance we were both in need of.

Dean's gaze found mine, his face masked in scepticism, but he gave a small nod and his fists finally unclenched.

"Now let me take a look at your hands." I suggested, walking to the other side of the room, picking the stool up off the ground, and setting it next to the dented table.

"I'm fine." Dean bit out, making no effort to cooperate.

"You always are. Sit."

My brother made no move as I scanned the room for the other stool and brought it over to take a seat.

"Please." I added softly.

The hunter looked to be in some sort of inner conflict as he stood amidst the destruction. I started to wonder if he was going to lose it again, but then suddenly he stalked over to the table and dropped onto the stool.

My brother dramatically smacked his hands, palms down, onto the table top and stared at me. It was clear that the he was unimpressed, but he was letting me have my way, so I wouldn't complain. I carefully inspected each hand for broken bones or deep cuts, I found none. I stood up and went to the sink, relieved to see that it was still in one piece as I soaked the washcloth.

"Told you I was fine." Dean declared.

I made no comment as I returned to the table, sitting down and dabbing at each knuckle, cleaning the blood from his hands.

"I can do that myself." My brother stated bitterly, but he made no effort to remove his injured limbs from my grasp.

"Hows Charlie?" He asked as I started in on his other hand.

"She's asleep. She got some good pain meds from the doctor so she'll probably be out for awhile."

"Is she...did I.." Dean faded off, his guilt almost palpable as he stared down at the table.

"Her arm's broken. Everything else is just superficial; bruises, cuts, nothing serious." I summed up.

My brother nodded distractedly.

I thought momentarily about suggesting that he keep his distance from Charlie, but I knew that such a warning was unnecessary. If I knew Dean, and I damn well did, he would stay as far from the injured young woman as he possibly could, at least until she instigated any sort of interaction.

"Here, clean your face." I instructed, handing him the damp cloth. I may have been able to get away with washing the blood from my brother's hands, but I knew that if I had even attempted to dab at the cuts on his face I would be crossing a line. Mark of Cain or not, Dean never really appreciated being fussed over. On a good day he would swat me away and call me a mother-hen...and today was definitely not a good day.

My brother ran the cloth over his face, wincing as he dragged it roughly over multiple cuts and bruises. I shook my head in exasperation, wishing that he would just let me tend to it, but I kept my mouth closed. I had to choose my battles, and how Dean goes about cleaning his face really wasn't of much importance at this point in time.

I stood and made my way to the fridge, stepping over the multitude of utensils and appliances. I pulled out an icepack from the freezer, wrapping a towel around it before handing it to my brother.

"For your eye." I explained unnecessarily as I sat back down.

Dean huffed, staring at the object in his hands as though it had personally offended him before he released an exasperated sigh and pressed it against the swelling area.

"You okay?" I asked, examining the man across from me for any further damage.

Dean quirked an eyebrow in frustration.

"I mean, like, physically?" I specified, wanting to know if there were any injuries I couldn't see. My brother nodded in confirmation, and while that wasn't one of the most reassuring signals, I would take what I could get.

We sat in silence, Dean's gaze turned down as mine remained on him.

After a moment my brother's head popped up, and his bright gaze looked into to mine.

"Are you alright?"

The question caught me off guard, out of the three people currently residing within the walls of the bunker, I was the last one to worry about.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I stated.

"Really? Because you sound off. Your voice sounds raspy. And unless you've been hiding a smoking habit from me for the past decade or so, I'm guessing there's another explanation." He elaborated, as his intense green eyes analyzed me.

I swallowed and realized how raw my throat was. I hadn't much noticed before, but there had been more pressing things to worry about.

"It's nothing, I just got choked out by the Wizard of Oz." It wasn't until after the words fell from my mouth that I recognized how absolutely absurd the were.

Dean shook his head, the shadow of a smile on his face as he said. "Our lives are so screwed up."

I snickered in agreement with the comment, watching as my brother dropped the ice-pack onto the table before getting to his feet. He looked around the kitchen, grimacing at the chaotic scene and searching for something. Just as I was about to ask what he was after, the hunter pulled a glass from the shelf, one of the few that had made it through his tirade, and filled it with ice.

"Here, suck on these. Should make your throat feel better and keep it from swelling up." Dean informed me gruffly as he placed that cup down in front of me.

"Thanks." I rasped, becoming even more aware or the soreness in my throat by the second.

"Why does every bastard always go for your throat?" He questioned, taking his seat and returning the freezer-pack to his face.

"Beats me." I chuckled past the ice cube in my mouth.

"Maybe your neck is just too damn long." Dean suggested with a smirk.

"Yeah, maybe." I grinned.

Our live were still messed up.

Charlie was still hurt and scared.

Dean still had the Mark of Cain, and it's influence on him didn't seem to be fading.

And I still hadn't found a solution.

But right then, at that moment; sitting in the kitchen surrounded by cookware and broken glass, everything was okay.

Charlie was injured, but currently pain-free and fast asleep.

Dean was upset and hating himself, but he was calm.

I had no doubt that there would be more fits of anger in the future.

But right now, everything was okay.

Because we were safe and we would get through this.

Together, we would figure it out.

We had to.

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Note: This is the kind of shit I do during class. Thanks for reading! Please comment/review if you have an extra second. I'd really appreciate it. - Sam


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